That moment. It took a long road to get to it. A road that started months ago. I’ve been to almost every show they’ve played this year. The album has been on repeat. I’ve sang along to all the songs they’ve already played. I’ve danced, I’ve screamed, I’ve earned that moment. The song starts, the last song of the night; my song.

I let all of my senses welcome this song. I hear it, of course, and I see him, just him. I smell the booze, the sweat, the enticement, the excitement. I can taste the words, dancing on my on tongue, sweet like sugar. I can feel the music on my skin, mingling with the goose bumps.

Nothing matters right now. No one is there but me and him and that song. Every thing and everyone just melts away. All the tension, the apprehension, the anxiety; disappeared. It’s just us. I almost cry from the sensory overload, but instead I soak it all in. That moment, my moment.

I feed on those words. I thrive on that melody. It’s so intimate between us right then, I feel so vulnerable, so exposed. I’m aware it’s one sided, but it doesn’t matter. It’s just me, him, and that song that matters. Everyone else can go ahead and look in my windows, peek at my soul.

It feels like hours, but hours that go by too quickly. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but it ends too soon. With the final word, the final chord, that intimacy lost, that connection broken, the moment passes. I come back to Earth, back to myself, and the party has just begun.

Night number two, and I’m surrounded by good friends, good conversation. I feel like hell, I look like shit, but we’re there nonetheless. The anticipation builds, but my moment doesn’t come. I get the tingles, but it’s not the same. It’s not the first time when it’s the second time. But that’s okay, I’ve still got my moment from the night before.

Just planning the trip gave me thrills. I knew I couldn’t afford it, neither of us could, but that’s never stopped me before. When it comes to them, very little can stop me. I’m drawn, I’m hooked. I knew I’d suffer when I got back. Physically, financially. I was aware, and I still put all my chips on the table.

Planning, paying, packing. All of it put the butterflies in my stomach. I’ve seen them tons of times. I’ve traveled thousands of miles to listen to the same songs I listen to at home. None of that mattered, I was going. I was ready for the experience. I was willing to pay whatever price they were asking. It was all worth it, tenfold because my best friend was by my side, making it all possible.

5 hour drive to spend less than 24 hours in Vegas. Turn right back around and head 5 hours straight to Orange County for show number 2. We were crazy. I don’t regret it.

2 shows, 2 nights, hundreds of miles, and one fuck of a hangover later… I’m still a little drunk on that moment. Thank you.